Victor Ruíz, the resort’s concierge, stood in the door diverting the resort’s guests by explaining it was a private party.
And it
was
a party.
Eli placed Chloë at the head of the table and sat at her right hand. The champagne and then the wine flowed as one course followed another, and when the dessert appeared—chocolate mousse with fresh-peeled mandarin orange slices soaked in Grand Marnier—Chloë stood. “I have to use the ladies’ room.”
“So do I,” Nonna said promptly.
Bao and Olivia rose at once.
“Me, too.” With Francesca’s assistance, Kathy laboriously got to her feet.
Brooke jumped up. “I thought we’d never go.”
Eli looked at his brothers. “Why do they go together?”
“They’re like gazelles—they travel in packs,” Noah answered.
“Stuff it, Noah.” Brooke tucked her hand into her mother’s arm and helped her navigate her way through the lobby and into the restroom.
Like the rest of the resort, the ladies’ room was clean and beautifully designed, with cream marble counter-tops, fired blue ceramic sinks, blue art-glass lighting, and a long row of stalls. French vanilla potpourri lightly scented the air, and in a small waiting room elegant stools sat in front of lighted makeup mirrors.
As if they were synchronized, the women entered the stalls, left the stalls, and washed their hands, then rushed into the waiting room. There, where the light was the best, they demanded to see Chloë’s rings.
She held out her hand first to Brooke, then Kathy, then Francesca, then Nonna, then Olivia. Even Bao, the tough bodyguard, seemed impressed with the gems that sparkled for joy.
Francesca examined them the longest. “A very impressive array. A man who gives jewelry like that is trying to tell a woman something.”
“That he loves her,” Olivia said solemnly.
“I don’t think so,” Chloë said, then clapped her hand over her mouth. She must have been tipsy or she wouldn’t have admitted it out loud. But it was too late; she couldn’t pull it back. “Eli isn’t in love with me. Not yet. But he has potential”—she smiled as laughter rippled through the bathroom—“and I have great hopes.”
“Chloë, I can’t help but think Eli must love you,” Brooke said. “I can’t imagine another reason he would marry you.”
“Honey!” Kathy said in horror.
Brooke rolled her eyes in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded. I meant—he’s such a loner. I never imagined he’d actually get married unless he found someone appropriate, his age, who knew the wine business and Bella Valley and would be the perfect helpmate when it came to promoting his wines. You, Chloë—you’re beautiful, you’re charming, you’re young, you’re intelligent, you have your own career—you’re the antithesis of the woman I thought he would marry. So
I
believe you’ve captured his heart.”
Nonna looked from one to another and smiled fondly.
“I hope you’re right.” Chloë caressed her rings and thought how nice it would be to think he loved her.
“Well, really,” Brooke said to the group. “What other reason would he have for marrying her?”
Abruptly, Chloë’s lighthearted sense of intoxication vanished. What other reason could Eli have for marrying her?
Chapter 35
W
hat other reason?
He’d insisted on the wedding because they’d had sex and his sense of honor demanded they make it official.
When she thought about it like that, the whole state of affairs seemed outrageous, this party surreal, and a very real alarm caught her by the throat.
What other reason could he have for marrying her?
Chloë started to speak, to speculate.
The door of the bathroom burst open and a group of three women rushed in. One of them headed right into a stall. The other two halted at the sight of the Di Luca party.
An attractive brunette of about thirty-five saw them, her eyes lit up, and she said, “Brooke Petersson! I heard you got married, and to Rafe Di Luca of all people. Is it true?”
“Yes, Karina, it’s true.” Brooke took on a militant posture. “It’s Brooke Di Luca now.”
“It’s about time!” Karina swept in and hugged Brooke. “After all those years of him leaving you and you hanging around Bella Terra waiting and waiting, I imagine this must be a huge relief.”
Caught in a bruising embrace, Brooke looked over Karina’s shoulder at Chloë with an I-want-to-kill-her expression clear on her face.
Chloë didn’t blame her. After thirty seconds in Karina’s company, Chloë had her number. This Karina, whoever she was, was not someone well liked; nor was she someone to be trusted. She was one of those women who loved to slip the knife right between the ribs.
Karina was married, of course. She wore a nice ring, not too big, not too small, but it was the only moderate thing about her. She talked too loud and too fast. Her clothes were expensive and worn too tight, as if she didn’t want to admit to the encroaching weight gain. In Bella Terra’s casual resort atmosphere, her overly plucked brows and exotic eye makeup were too dramatic.
In an aside, the careless kind important people give to the elderly, she tossed out, “Hello, Mrs. Di Luca, hello, Mrs. Petersson.”
Both women stiffened at her dismissive tone.
But Karina had chosen the wrong opponents.
“Karina, it’s good to see you.” Kathy leaned on her walker and smiled in a direct way that made Chloë recall Kathy’s military background. “I was talking to the Di Luca women about my shop and how many people are using me to create fruit and cheese platters for their parties. How did
your
party go last week?”
Karina took a quick, embarrassed breath. “The party was good, and you did such lovely platters. I’ll be by tomorrow to pay you for my last extravaganza!”
Kathy inclined her head. “I’d appreciate that. I’d hate to think you couldn’t afford to pay your bills.”
Wow. Score one for Kathy.
With a smile that verged on a smirk, Nonna moved smoothly into the conversation. “Karina, I’d like you to meet the newest member of our family, Eli’s new bride, Chloë Di Luca.”
Karina’s jaw dropped, actually dropped open.
The woman coming out of the stall froze in her tracks. She darted an alarmed glance at Karina and whispered, “Oh, my God.”
The other woman hid a smile behind her hand.
Chloë didn’t know what was going on, but she knew Nonna had used her as ammunition against Karina. Not that Chloë objected—but Nonna was a sweetheart, which meant Karina really, really made her cranky.
Karina snapped her mouth shut. “Eli Di Luca got married?” Her gaze slid up and down Chloë as if Chloë were a well-traveled road. “To, um—”
“Chloë is a
New York Times
bestselling author of a marvelous mystery.” Nonna took Chloë’s hand and squeezed it. “Eli’s been helping her with her research for her next one and here we are, with a new member to the Di Luca family!”
“Well,” Karina said brightly. “Isn’t that nice!”
The women behind Karina leaned on each other and laughed silently.
“I can see you two in the mirror,” Karina snapped.
They both froze and sobered.
“Let me see the ring.” Karina snatched Chloë’s hand in a strong grip. “How cute. A pink sapphire!”
Francesca started to say something.
Chloë shook her head. “Yes.” She smiled brightly at Karina. “It’s a pink sapphire.”
“And the other stones are . . . ?”
“Diamonds, of course.” Chloë put on her shocked face. “You don’t imagine Eli would settle for anything else?”
Even those lesser diamonds were enough to make this Karina person turn pea green with envy. “Of course not. Not Eli. He is quite a, uh . . . well. He’s a Di Luca. I’d love to know how you caught him.”
“It was no secret,” Nonna chirped. “She wasn’t even trying.”
At the killer expression on Karina’s face, Chloë edged toward the door. The other women in the Di Luca party followed and stood outside in the lobby, as wide-eyed as if they’d narrowly escaped torture and death.
“Who was that?” Chloë asked.
“Sorry, dear, we should have introduced you,” Nonna said.
“No.” Chloë shook her head. “Definitely you shouldn’t have. She’s got such an attitude!”
“She’s Karina DuPey.” For a pleasant woman, Brooke could sneer quite effectively.
“The wife of the police chief? Oh. Well. In the South, when we talk about a woman like her, we always say, ‘Bless her heart,’ because of the clothing and the makeup.” Chloë looked at the group with a limpid gaze. “Also, it’s less direct than calling her a bitch.”
They laughed and started slowly back to the Luna Grande.
“I’ve known that girl for twenty-three years, and she’s always been overly impressed with her position in this town.” Kathy’s mouth was puckered as if she’d bitten into a lemon.
“I take it Eli used to date Karina?” Chloë asked.
“Right you are,” Brooke said.
“His taste has improved,” Francesca drawled.
“Right again,” Chloë said.
“I think she convinced herself he hadn’t married because he was in love with her.” Nonna couldn’t have sounded more sure.
“So much for that fond delusion,” Brooke said cheerfully.
In the Luna Grande, the men seemed to have multiplied, and Chloë realized why Karina DuPey was in the ladies’ room—it looked like a police convention in here.
Police Chief Bryan DuPey was there in his rumpled uniform, looking more relaxed, but still weary and worn.
Chloë had met his wife. Now she knew why.
Wyatt Vincent wore a tan suit and a white shirt, and his midnight tie was loosened around his neck. He held a glass of wine and wore a genial expression, and when his blue eyes met Chloë’s, he lifted his glass in a toast. “Here’s the bride,” he announced.
Finnegan Balfour turned sadly to face her. “I was hopin’ I’d be the one to charm you,” he said.
“You do charm me,” she said flirtatiously, but when he moved closer, she slipped away to Eli’s side.
For all that he was handsome, Finnegan was a little odd. His uniform was perfectly ironed and so precisely creased, he didn’t seem like a real cop; he seemed like an actor playing a cop on an old TV sitcom, and he watched her closely, as if he knew her better than she knew herself.
Eli put his arm around her, drew her close, and turned her to face a large, middle-aged, Hispanic officer. “I don’t think you’ve met Terry Gonzales.”
The officer had hands the size of trash-can lids; her hand disappeared in his, but he shook it gently and in a deadpan voice said, “If this boy ever gives you trouble, you let me know.”
She thanked him; then as they turned away, she whispered to Eli, “All Terry needed to do was call me ‘little lady’ and I would have thought I was back in Texas.”
Eli grinned. “I’ve known Terry for years. He’s a good guy. Come and meet our lone female in uniform.”
Robin Webster was about Chloë’s age. She was pretty. She filled out her uniform well. And in her eyes Chloë saw a cynicism so raw it hurt to see. Something had happened to Robin that sent her into law enforcement, and it hadn’t been good.
“With all of you here, I have to wonder what’s up?” Chloë asked her. “Did the criminals take the night off?”
“Wyatt threw a party to thank the Bella Terra Police Department for our patronage. We dined in the private room off the restaurant, and when we finished, we were waiting in the lobby for the wives and we heard your good news.” Robin was polite, if not enthusiastic. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. We’re very happy.” Chloë didn’t know why she felt the need to tell Robin they were happy; maybe it was that cynicism that spoke so loudly.
“And please, let me assure you.” Robin smiled tightly. “There are officers on the beat, and I’m going back to the department as soon as I can leave here. I’ve had nothing to drink; you’re still safe from crime.”
“I didn’t mean . . .” Clearly, Chloë had misspoken. “I’m sorry if I gave offense. It was a bad joke.”
“No offense taken.” Robin gave way to Mason Watson. “Here’s the coroner to offer his congratulations.”
“She’s a good cop,” Eli said in Chloë’s ear. “But known to be a little touchy.”
The coroner clapped Eli on the shoulder hard; he’d had a little too much to drink, and he spoke a little too loudly. “I never thought you’d convince any girl to take you off the market. And you got that rare treasure, an intelligent woman. Good job, Eli!”
Nearby, Nonna sighed loudly.
“Mason, your social skills suck,” Eli said.
“What?” The gleam in Mason’s eyes dimmed. “What did I say?”
“Nothing anyone’s concerned about,” Chloë said soothingly.
DuPey nudged Mason out of the way and shook Eli’s hand, then shook Chloë’s, then shook Eli’s again. “I certainly want to make sure I offer my congratulations, too. I’ve been hoping for this for years.”
Chloë construed that to mean that his wife had been holding Eli up as the man she should have married.
Mason shoved back at DuPey and, putting both his hands on Chloë’s shoulders, he leaned into her. “Just be careful. In my business, they always say corpses come in threes. So far this spring, I’ve had two on my slab. Make sure you’re not the third one.”
“I’ll do my best,” Chloë promised, and stepped away from his high-octane whiskey breath.
Eli signaled his brothers.
But Mason babbled on. “I’m just saying that because the Di Luca brides seem to have a way of getting in trouble. First Nonna, then Brooke . . . They lived through it. But the third time’s a charm!”
“Come on, Mason.” Noah took him by one arm. “Let’s arrange for a hotel room for you.”
“Good idea.” Rafe took his other arm. “Come on. We’ll hand you over to Victor and he’ll put you to bed.”
As they led Mason away, he told them earnestly, “I don’t care what they say around town. You guys are really nice.”